ReGifting
by Phx
Summary: Three weeks later, it was Christmas Eve... Spoilers for Season 6.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my Christmas Gift to Trasan. Thank you, my friend, for being such a good friend. **__**Spoilers: Season Six. Set three weeks after 6.11. Thanks Alaina, for the beta.**_

**Re-gifting**

**The Story**

It was late Christmas Eve and Dean sat in the old worn chair in Bobby's living room and stared dully at the brightly lit Christmas tree in front of him. Oddly out of place, the tree tilted to one side and had a big bare spot in front that someone (Dean) had tried to compensate for by hanging an empty beer can there. Bobby hadn't been amused but then again, he hadn't moved it either so Dean counted it as a win.

_Of sorts._

Across from him, sitting on the couch, his long body folded forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and his head leaned against one hand, was Sam.

Sam looked just about as happy as Dean. Only… unhappier.

In the background, a CB cackled and some trucker raved about how his Auntie Margie made the best eggnog in all the Dakotas, which, of course, prompted more beer-bellied coffee guzzlers up to the mic and within minutes it had digressed into a verbal brawl.

Dean tuned them out and sighed.

_Could Christmas suck more? _

Down the hall, Bobby flushed the toilet and the sound of him spraying the air made Dean grimace.

_Lovely_.

Sam must have noticed the look (or heard the spray or smelled the -) because suddenly he was lifting his head and looking at Dean. Maybe truly seeing his older brother for the first time all night – and he smiled.

It sorta freaked Dean out.

Since getting his soul back three weeks earlier, Sam had been quiet and _sad_, spending way too much time thinking, despite Dean's numerous attempts (and downright threats) to get him to do otherwise.

_Don't pick at it and it won't bleed, you idiot._

So to see Sam suddenly, truly, honestly smiling at him?

Yeah, 'freaked out' would be putting it nicely. Shifting slightly in the chair, Dean glanced behind him to where Bobby was just making his way back into the living room (was he carrying a tray of… _cookies?_) then back at his brother, who was still smiling at him. "What?" he finally demanded, unable to take the suspense any longer.

"What, what?" Sam asked innocently (_the bastard_), slowly straightening up and settling back more comfortably against the couch. He actually wiggled his socking clad toes as he let his long legs stretch out in front of him.

Dean scowled. "You damn well know what."

"What are you two morons talking about?" Bobby grumbled as he put down the tray of – _holy shit it was_ – cookies on the coffee table, shoving a stack of magazines out of the way to make room.

The magazines slid onto the floor. Leaning forward, Sam reached for the fallen stack. Making a neat pile, he pushed them next to the couch where they wouldn't be in the way.

It was such a Sam thing to do, Dean was distracted for a moment watching him. "Why's Sam smiling at me? Have I got beer on my face or something?" he finally asked as he did some reaching of his own… right for the plate of cookies.

_Ooh, chocolate chip._

Not having smelled anything cooking earlier, Dean decided one of the women from town (maybe the red-head who was so obviously sweet on the oblivious Bobby) must have dropped them off.

He popped the treat into his mouth and tried not to wonder if Bobby had washed his hands.

"I got you something for Christmas," Sam's smile wavered slightly then dropped. He cleared his throat, suddenly seeming not so sure of himself. "Unless, uh – well… it doesn't matter."

Dean stopped chewing, his brow furrowed in a confused frown. Sam got him something for Christmas?

_Why would he do that? _

_When'd__ he do that?_ The kid hadn't been anywhere by himself since before Death. In fact, Dean couldn't remember the last time his brother had even been alone, always making sure to be in a room with either Dean or Bobby. It reassured Dean more than Sam would ever know. And Bobby, well, the guy practically fawned over the kid – as much as Bobby 'fawns' over anyone. Something had changed between Sam and Bobby after Sam tried to kill him, and oddly enough, it seemed to have brought them closer. Dean still shook his head on that one.

So unless Sam got him used soap-on-the-rope from the upstairs bathroom –

Sam mistook Dean's silence and stood up, he actually wrung his hands in agitation and lowered his eyes. "Never mind. It's stupid."

"Whoa, wait a sec," Dean rose too. He knew what this was. He recognized this and it made his heart jolt. This was important to Sam. Whatever it was that he'd gotten for Dean, it meant something to Sam. It was textbook Sammy. The little brother Dean knew.

_Fidgety? Dismissive? Self-deprecating? _

Damn straight this must be important to Sam, so Dean closed the short distance between them and ducked down to catch his brother's eyes. He put the most amount of petulance in his voice that he could, and whined, one hand out in a 'give me' motion. "Where is it? What'd ya get me? Where's my gift?"

Sam huffed out a surprised, "Dude, it's not even Christmas yet," and batted Dean's hand away as he sat back down, but he was smiling again and something inside the older man relaxed. God, Dean had missed that smile.

Mock glaring at his brother, Dean stalked over to his chair again and threw himself into it. "It's not fair, you know," he complained as Bobby shook his head and left the room. "I didn't get you anything." And he hadn't. Who had time? Well, other than Sam apparently.

"_Dean,"_ the amount of emotion in that one word should have warned Dean.

But it didn't.

"_You got me my soul back." _

Sam's eyes were glistening.

"_There are no words." _

A single tear ran down Sam's cheek.

"_Thank you is not big enough." _

And then Sam was moving.

Six-foot four of little brother was yanking him out of the chair and wrapping octopus long arms around him, squeezing the breath out of him.

"_But thank you… anyways."_

And Dean returned what he was given.

"_Thank you._"

Ten fold.

_Thank you..._

_Thank -_ God for - _you._

The clock chimed midnight.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam whispered, his arms dropping to his sides as he stepped away. He was smiling once again.

Dean felt the weight. It was a familiar weight on his chest (_hanging_ against his chest). He sucked in a shocked sob and looked down. There, dangling from a thin band of leather was his pendant.

His ugly, horrible faced, God-finding-and-failing, brother-giving-and-loving pendant.

Tentatively he wrapped his fingers around the little figure. Shiny-eyed, he looked at his brother. "You sneaky bastard," he managed past a lump in his throat. There was so much more he wanted to say but there just weren't the words.

Then Bobby was back with fresh beer and more cookies.

And the moment was stolen away.

But as Dean chose the couch to sit on this time with one leg squished up against his brother's, he enjoyed the beer, finished the cookies and decided two things:

This was the best Christmas ever, and;

Bobby knew jack shit about picking Christmas trees…

Yeah. It was settled. And next year? He and Sam were doing the decorating.

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-LAAAAA!

The End of this part.

Continued in Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

This is completely unbeta'd so I apologize for any mistake. I just had to write a second part. Merry Christmas!

**Re-Gifting**

**Chapter 2**

"Here." Dean thrust a small, apparently hastily wrapped package towards Sam. The older hunter had disappeared upstairs earlier, after finishing off most of extra cookies and beer Bobby brought out.

Standing, Sam glanced warily at the offering. He'd heard some cursing, swearing and the sound of paper rustling just before Dean had come back down. "What is this?"

Dean fidgeted. "Just something. I – uh – had for you."

Sam was confused. He frowned. "Why?" His brother didn't need to get him anything. _And_ Dean had only told him an hour ago that he didn't have a present for Sam...

"'Cause…" More shifting by Dean.

"Dean, you didn't have to-" Sure, Sam had given his brother his amulet back but Sam didn't expect anything in return. Honestly. Dean had given him more than Sam felt he could ever deserve.

"Sam." Dean practically shoved the gift at him.

"No," Sam, stepped back slightly. His brother didn't have to do this, even if a small part of him wondered what it was. Soap-on-the-rope, maybe? "Serious, dude, you've already given me so much."

"Yeah, well. The soul thing doesn't count." Dean glanced away self-consciously for a moment.

"What?" Sam was confused. "Why not?" Was Dean mad at him about something?

"'Cause that one was sorta for me as well."

Ooh.

That was humbling.

Sam was silent. Swallowing hard, he nodded – yeah, he got that – and then turned to the messily wrapped gift his brother was holding out to him. With shaking hands, Sam took the present and offered a tremulous smile. His vision was blurry as he forced his shaking hands to unwrap his brother's gift. And then he burst out a startled laugh.

Dean looked a bit sheepish then grinned, "Ah, what the hell." He pulled his younger brother in for a quick hug. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

"Ah, geez, women, get a room, will ya?" Bobby's gruff voice broke the moment and the brothers pulled away. The man chuckled under his breath. "What'cha got there anyway, Sam?"

Sam held out his gift, one hand sneaking up to brush away the dampness on his cheeks, his face flushed.

In his other hand was a small green army man.

Bobby frowned, then looked at Dean, "You serious?"

Dean nodded. "Never been more serious about anything before in my life." He paused then added, "Ben got it out." He chuckled sadly as he looked at the same little figurine a very young Sam had jammed into the Impala ashtray so many years ago. "He thought he was helping."

Sam found it hard to speak for a moment. He tipped his head to the side and swallowed hard. "It's okay," he absolved quietly as he fingered the tiny toy. "Least he didn't just throw it out, huh?" His gaze lightly skimmed over Dean's amulet as he rushed to reassure that he hadn't meant it as a dig – he was genuinely thankful. "I don't mean-"

"It's okay, bro," Dean did some absolving of his own. "Car just feels so damned naked without it, you know?"

"Good grief," Bobby exhaled noisily, snatching the last cookie off the tray. He popped it in his mouth, chewing noisily as he sat down in the chair Dean had used earlier. He waved towards the front door. "Hurry your asses up and put the damn thing back before I drown in all this estrogen… And grab me a beer on the way in, will ya? It's A wonderful Life is about to start and I ain't missing the opening."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean gave him a light shove towards the door. "You heard the man – let's git 'er done."

Sam hesitated for a moment in the open doorway, the frigid cold cutting through his clothes; unbidden fear teased an edge of anxiety and prickled at the hairs on his skin.

"Sammy?"

The solid presence at his back and the undisguised concern in his brother's voice, soothed, and Sam tightened his grip on the little green man and gave a curt nod of his head. "I'm okay," he assured then stepped outside.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the army man was back in the ashtray, Bobby was halfway through his beer and Sam was asleep, his long body stretched out on the couch, his legs draped over Dean's lap.

_Yeah_, mused Dean, a sappy little smirk on his face as he settled back to watch the rest of the movie, one hand resting reassuringly on his brother's ankle, the other curled around a fresh made cup of coffee, _best Christmas ever._

The End – really, this time.


End file.
